The rooftop remained silent except for the occasional rustle of wind brushing past the metal railing. Haruki lingered in his spot, gripping the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, the words of the address almost etched into his mind. His chest felt tight, as if the storm inside him refused to settle, no matter how long he stood there.
He gazed out at the distant skyline, where the muted gray clouds seemed to blend into the city’s jagged edges. A part of him wanted to stay up here forever, to let the world forget he existed for just a little while longer. But he knew it wouldn’t last. It never did.
The faint creak of the rooftop door made him tense. He didn’t turn around, but the sound of approaching footsteps told him exactly who it was.
“You always come here when you’re brooding,” Aoi’s voice broke the stillness, soft but firm, as if she’d been rehearsing what to say.
Haruki sighed, stuffing the slip of paper back into his pocket. “You ever think about leaving me alone, Kisaragi?”
“I have,” she said, coming to stand beside him, her arms crossed. “And then I decided against it.”
Haruki glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked calm, almost casual, but he could see the determination in her posture—the way her fingers tapped rhythmically against her arm, as if daring him to brush her off again.
“What do you want this time?” Haruki asked, his tone more resigned than annoyed.
Aoi tilted her head slightly, studying him. “The same thing I always want. To know what’s going on with you.”
Haruki shook his head, letting out a quiet laugh. “You’re relentless, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse,” Aoi said with a shrug.
Haruki leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the city below. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them filled only by the distant hum of traffic.
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?” Aoi asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Haruki stiffened, his fingers curling around the railing. “What makes you say that?”
“Because every time someone tries to get close to you, you push them away,” Aoi said. “It’s like you’re afraid of letting anyone in.”
Haruki’s jaw tightened, his grip on the railing turning white-knuckled. “Maybe that’s because every time I let someone in, they end up hurt.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them, and the moment they did, he regretted it.
Aoi’s expression softened, her probing gaze replaced by something gentler. “Haruki...”
“Don’t,” Haruki said quickly, turning to face her. His voice was sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t stop himself. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Then help me understand,” Aoi said, her tone unwavering.
Haruki clenched his fists, his chest tight with frustration. He wanted to tell her—wanted to finally let someone share the burden he’d been carrying for so long. But the thought of dragging her into his world, of putting her in danger, made him hesitate.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said finally, his voice quieter now.
“Try me,” Aoi said.
Haruki hesitated, his gaze locked on hers. For a moment, he considered it—considered telling her everything. But before he could decide, the sound of the rooftop door creaking open again shattered the moment.
Haruki turned, his heart sinking as he saw two men step onto the rooftop. They weren’t students—everything about them screamed out of place. Their sharp suits, cold expressions, and the way their eyes scanned the rooftop like hawks searching for prey set off alarms in Haruki’s mind.
The taller of the two men locked eyes with him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Haruki Nakamura,” he said, his voice smooth and confident.
Haruki’s stomach dropped. The name Nakamura wasn’t supposed to exist at Akihabara Academy. He’d worked so hard to bury that identity, to keep it from surfacing here.
But now, it had followed him.
“What are you doing here?” Haruki asked, his voice low and steady despite the panic building inside him.
The taller man spread his arms in a mock gesture of friendliness. “Your father sent us. He thought you might need a little... encouragement to stay on task.”
Haruki’s fists clenched at his sides. “I’m handling it.”
“Are you?” the man said, raising an eyebrow. “Because from where we’re standing, it looks like you’re wasting time playing high school.”
Aoi stepped closer to Haruki, her gaze darting between him and the two men. “Who are they?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Stay out of this, Kisaragi,” Haruki said quickly, keeping his eyes on the men.
“Who’s your friend?” the shorter man asked, his tone laced with amusement. “She doesn’t look like one of us.”
“She’s nobody,” Haruki said, his voice sharp.
Aoi flinched at his tone, but she didn’t back down. “Excuse me?”
The taller man chuckled, taking a step closer. “Relax, Haruki. We’re just here to remind you of your responsibilities. Your father expects results, and he’s not interested in excuses.”
“I said I’m handling it,” Haruki said through gritted teeth.
The man’s smirk widened. “Then prove it. Because if you don’t, someone else will.”
Haruki’s chest tightened, his mind racing. The implication in the man’s words was clear—if he didn’t deliver, Riku would gladly take over.
“Get out,” Haruki said, his voice cold.
The man’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. “Careful, Haruki. You don’t want to make enemies out of your allies.”
“Get. Out,” Haruki repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The two men exchanged a glance before turning toward the door. But as they left, the taller man threw one last glance over his shoulder.
“Don’t keep us waiting, Nakamura.”
The door slammed shut, leaving the rooftop eerily quiet. Haruki exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging as the tension drained from his body.
“Haruki,” Aoi said, her voice trembling slightly.
He turned to face her, his expression guarded.
“Who were they?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Haruki said quickly.
“Yes, it does,” Aoi said, her voice rising. “They called you Nakamura. Is that your real name?”
Haruki froze, his mind scrambling for an answer. He could see the confusion and hurt in Aoi’s eyes, and it twisted something deep inside him.
“I can’t explain right now,” he said finally, his voice strained. “You just have to trust me.”
Aoi shook her head, her hands balling into fists. “How am I supposed to trust you when you keep lying to me?”
Haruki opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know how to fix this—didn’t know how to make her understand without putting her in even more danger.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.
Aoi stared at him for a long moment before turning and walking toward the door.
“Wait,” Haruki called after her, but she didn’t stop.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Haruki alone on the rooftop once more.
He leaned against the railing, his chest tight as he stared out at the city. The rain had started again, a light drizzle that barely touched him but soaked into the cracks of his resolve.
The world around him felt heavier than ever.